


Indigo Blue and Flowers

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidents, M/M, Major Property Damage, dye, original characters because otherwise Minas Tirith is a bit underpopulated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: Legolas goes for a walk that results in chaos and major property damage.Trigger warning for building collapses and near drowning.  Rating is for minor language.





	Indigo Blue and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien’s wonderful characters or universe, I am just borrowing them to play.

Legolas walked through Minas Tirith. Not along the city streets, but through the tops of trees, along the roofs and over walls. He can scale his way up and down through the great levels of the castle town easily this way. Despite being in the city for two weeks he hadn’t yet had the time to really explore the city and today was a good opportunity.

He lowered himself down the lower half of the Fourth Ring wall and into the branches of a tree. Like all of the trees in Minas Tirith, it was effected by living so close to the Black Lands. He leaned back against the trunk for a moment humming reassurance to himself and the tree. Mordor had fallen and the tree would have the chance to grow toward bright and clear skies. The rain would fall cleaner and the wind blow purer. He was looking forward to telling his father, the king, of the opportunities to plant and tend the forests of Ithilien and the great city.

He was still trying to decide how to tell his father that his middle son and fourth child married a dwarf.

At the thought of his dwarf he heaved a sigh of satisfaction. Gimli is exactly everything he could want in a mate. (Surprising, given how their relationship had started as they left Rivendell months ago.) Shaking himself out of his happy daydreams he decided he had better continue his exploration before he was forced to head right back up to the Seventh Ring and borrow his husband from his self-appointed task of the day.

Before he left his current perch he couldn’t help but reach out mentally and delicately touch his new bond with the dwarf. He hadn’t been certain an elf COULD bond with a dwarf but it seems to have worked and he is overjoyed for it. Legolas’s tentative touch yielded the information that Gimli exists and is happy. Maybe happy. He is still trying to master this skill.

***

Gimli stared at the archives of Minas Tirith, impressed despite himself. The Archives and Library of Erebor are probably larger, but the numerous rooms of high vaulted ceilings and tidy shelves contain an amazing amount of information.

By the hint of a smile on the face of the scholar holding the lamp and standing patiently while the dwarf gaped at the Archives, he had probably seen many people awestruck by the scale and magnitude of records in this shielded section of the Citadel. As he wandered back deeper through the crowded and dusty halls he was certain some shelves of scrolls haven’t been read in centuries.

Gimli only hoped the maps he wants are in here somewhere. At least Minas Tirith has never had a dragon problem, he remembers Ori telling him that it had been horrible to re-sort the library in the wake of the dragon.

***

Legolas made it to the warehouses on the far end of the First Ring. The walls are far enough apart here that the buildings are huge and ungraceful things. Legolas snorted, visualizing Gimli’s reactions to the ungainly architecture. Especially here, down next to the outer walls and away from more densely crowded (and more protected) housing, the orcs and Men of the enemy had destroyed at will. Partial building walls, roofs with pieces missing and the occasional missing building visible as a charred pile of joists made roof walking a little more treacherous. Some of the roofs were tiled, others shingled or thatched. An interesting mixture.

Curious, Legolas sang quietly to the thatched roof under his feet. Very quietly in return, it sang back a story of long ago fields of reeds, of being harvested and dried. It echoed with the idea of decades of presence on the roof, of moss and sun and birds living in a little world above the city streets.

He thanked the roof and delicately stepped off onto a tree limb and climbing a little higher, clambered onto a tiled roof a little farther onward. As he reached the ridge of that building he stopped at a startling sight: A large garden in the middle of the warehouses.

The garden consisted of huge planter boxes close to waist height for a human, in long rows filling the vast open area. Unlike the rest of the gardens of the city, the plants in this one were vibrant with health and life. Husky green bushes and banks of colorful flowers crowded the boxes. A few people walked among them. The buildings formed a fortified box around the gardens, protecting the plants from wind and providing some shade through the day. Curious, he walked along the roof to the next building.

He reached roughly the middle of the rooftree on the next warehouse when a voice yelled up, “Hey you! What are you doing up there? Idiot child! Get down immediately!”

Ah, he has been caught by the humans. It was a man dressed entirely in dark, dark blue, standing in the middle of all the flowers with a bucket. He seemed very angry at Legolas’s presence (and apparently had mistaken him for one of the children he had seen running errands in this district). The man punctuated his yells with sharp gestures, making it clear his presence on the roof was not welcome.

Legolas sighed, he wanted to admire the gardens more. Maybe if he apologizes he will be allowed to walk among the flower beds? The easiest way down was the tall ladder leaning against the courtyard wall. He took a step off the rooftree and down towards the ladder, and suddenly the building swayed and lurched under his feet. There was a groan of joists uncoupling and the section he stood on creaked, dipped and the tiles began to slide sideways.

  
He leapt toward a more solid portion of the roof, trying to maintain his balance as the rooftree cracked downward in a plume of bitter smelling dust. Screams and yells came from the courtyard below. Belatedly, as the roof began to collapse, he realized this building too was damaged.

***

Gimli was walking down the dark narrow stairs to the next deeper level of the Archives. He stomped with care down each step, awkwardly sized for Men rather than his shorter legs. Between one step and the next he was hanging frightened in a shifting world of black tiles and groaning beams. He tried to leap to the next stable point but mid jump he was smacked by something large and heavy. As the heavy thing shoved him into some part of the roof’s interior, the tiles clattered past to shatter on the ground below. There was distant yelling as suddenly he was in free fall. The drop was short as he and the tiles hit some sort of floor and then a much longer fall in an avalanche of debris. He tried to curl up to protect his head and torso and hit the ground with a horrible crack that plunged him into deep water and darkness.

Gimli’s foot missed the step and he fell down the stairs, not noticing the drop until he found himself curled up breathless and dazed on the landing below. The scholar he was walking with gasped and clattered down the steps after him holding the lantern.

***

Legolas wasn’t sure where he had ended up. Flailing madly, he had managed to grab a piece of lumber that lay across the huge pottery bowl he had somehow landed in. He didn’t think he was too badly injured but he was definitely pinned and only barely managing to keep from drowning in whatever this murk was. There was no view out over the sides of the basin, but he could hear debris continuing to shift and slide.

“Got him, he’s right here!” There was another sliding noise and a hand grabbed the collar of his tunic, pulling his head up and farther out of the liquid.

“Is everyone accounted for? How is the child?” A woman’s voice, clear with command rang out through the settling dust. There were a chorus of responses vaguely audible in the distance.

“It’s not a child, I think it’s an elf?” The man holding onto him yelled back to the woman. He sounded a little baffled, but said more quietly, “There now, how badly are you injured?”

Without waiting for a response the man made a huff that reminds Legolas of Gimli before sliding carefully into a better position to see the elf he was holding up out of the vat. “You are a lucky elf, I think. You survived killing the roof and you landed in the vat instead of on the ground.” He got both arms under Legolas and gave an experimental heave. “And I think you’re a little stuck. We’ll need a lever!” The last statement was yelled to the workers climbing their way through the debris toward them.

“How badly is he injured?” The commanding woman had arrived, climbing through the maze.

“He’s breathing.” The man pushed soaked hair to one side, “I think his head is bleeding. I can’t tell beyond that.”

“My leg is trapped, and everything hurts. What did I land in?” With his eyes now open, Legolas’s entire world appeared a weird oily greenish-blue. The liquid he was floating in smelled like an unreasonable mixture of bread dough and urine. Craning his neck back and around he could see the rim of the tub and people’s feet.

“Marcos, get the healer from the Station. Then go to the Citadel and tell the gate guards there has been an accident with the elf. You will want to talk to someone in charge, so keep repeating yourself until you find someone.” The woman appeared to be addressing someone outside the damaged building.

“But Mother, the Citadel?” Marcos sounded young and uncertain about the advisability of approaching the castle.

“Yes, the Citadel! I will not have us accused of injuring one of the King’s companions and maliciously hiding it! Now go!” She heaved a sigh and turned back to Legolas and the man, “It’s one of our indigo vats, my Lord. Now just lie still while we move enough of our dye shed to get you out.”

***

Aragorn was in the middle of reading trade documents when a scribe ran into his office and was nearly spitted by his brand new personal guard. He wasn’t certain why he needed a personal guard, especially in the middle of the Citadel and having the ever-changing rotation of clanking soldiers in inappropriately suggestively shaped helmets (Elladan had pointed that out and he hadn’t been able to un-think that thought yet) follow him about was getting tiresome.

Worse yet, he thought, if he gets a reputation allowing guards to murder scribes, the scribes may decamp and he does NOT want to go back to doing the paperwork alone.

The scribe didn’t notice the frantic waving and aborted motion as he bowed frantically towards his feet and said, “My King there has been an accident in the archives! Lord Gimli fell down the stairs!”

“What happened? Is he injured?” Aragorn hadn’t thought visiting the Archives was a hazardous adventure.

“I was with him, he just fell. The others are attempting to take him to the House of Healers but he insists he is fine and must leave the Citadel. It was a full flight of stairs my Lord! And he just toppled over! I had the light and everything!” The scribe sounded frantic, both anxious for the health of Gimli and that he will be blamed for any injuries to a personal friend of the King.

Aragorn stood and ordered, “Take me to him.” Gimli is a sturdy being but usually more sure footed than to simply plunge headlong down steps. And, the weirdly slanted terms of the prospective trade agreement are getting on his nerves. At least healing Gimli isn’t likely to cause food riots somewhere.

The scribe hurried off down the corridor, King and bodyguard in tow. As they reached the Archives it was obvious the remaining scribes have had little luck in moving the angry dwarf to the House of Healing. Aragorn could hear Gimli from the main doors.

“I tell you, I am a dwarf, not some brittle creature that would break from a little tumble. Let me go!”

Well, if Gimli could muster that much volume he was probably correct in being relatively undamaged. And Aragorn can only admire the courage of the scribes trying to aid the dwarf. Aragorn walked up behind the small angry form. “Friend Gimli, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Ah, Aragorn, these fools insist I must visit the House of Healing when I am in a hurry. I must find Legolas.” Gimli sounded worried and a little frantic.

Suddenly the haste made sense. “Has something happened to Legolas?”

Here Gimli faltered. “I…I don’t know. He has some sort of blue problem I think. I have to go now and find him.”

Blue problem? Gimli and Aragorn stared at one another, equally at a loss.

***

Legolas was finally able to sprawl in the bottom of the dye vat without the danger of drowning. It would have been nice to turn over and lie on his back rather than with his nose against the inside of the giant basin. Come to think of it, it would be nice to simply get out of the vat. But until his leg was freed he was stuck.

The healer had crawled through building wreckage, stared down at him awash in dye and pronounced: “Head injury is minor. Probably not dying. You need to get him out before I can properly examine him.”

The Master Dyer, who had introduced herself as Sarinth Dyer, had marshalled her workers to move buckets of mucky blue dye to a couple of wash basins at the edge of the disaster zone that previously was the indigo dye shed of the Dyer’s Guild. Workers from other warehouses nearby were moving debris and the area was loud with the sound of shovels, axes and saws as the building was broken down further and moved to the side. Master Sarinth had carefully explained that the vat was inset flush with the ground, so they could not simply break the tank to get him loose. They would need to move large amounts of timber to remove the piece on his leg without collapsing everything: a fragment of the lid usually covering the vat.

She also assigned the man in dark blue, Liomen the Garden Master of the Dyers Guild, to take care of Legolas while they worked to free him. He brought water to drink and a clean wet towel for Legolas’s face and was currently sitting in the bottom of the vat giving Legolas a running dialogue of progress.

“Here you go my Lord, a blanket. Let’s just get this under you a little so you’re not squashed into the side of the vat.” He spoke softly, like Legolas was an unfamiliar and wounded creature who might lash out when frightened.

Legolas pushed himself up a little on his hands while the blanket was stuffed under him and then sank down again onto the softer surface. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem my Lord.” There was another noise outside of Legolas’s view and Liomen stood to look out of the tank and through the maze of debris. “Excellent, they’ve brought the winches from the brewery. That’ll help. How are you feeling?”

Legolas considered the question for a moment before responding, “Damp. My head hurts. And my leg hurts. And I’m blue. Will it come off?” His hands were blue, as was what clothing he could see. Even the hair fallen down into view over his shoulder appeared to have been dyed blue.

There was a soft chuckle in response, “You know, all the kids have fallen into the vats at least once. It wears off eventually. The clothing might be permanent though.”

***

The gate guards called the Steward when the boy wouldn’t go away. He kept yelling in a clear loud voice, “Mother said I had to come to the Citadel and say there was an accident with the elf. I’m supposed to tell someone important!”

Faramir stepped between the guards and up to the boy, who appeared to be about 10 years of age. “Child – “

“I’m Marcos.” The boy sounded belligerent but was dancing in place with nervousness. “We don’t want to be in trouble. Mother said we had to explain what happened. But they told all of us to not roof walk and not go in the dye shed for now ‘cause the Orcs broke stuff and it wasn’t safe. But the elf went on the roof and Uncle Liomen said not too and the roof fell. So we didn’t break the rules, so we shouldn’t be in trouble, right?”

Faramir sighed wearily. “Marcos, please tell me what happened from the beginning.”

***

With the arrival of the winches, moving the massive roof beams seemed to be going faster. Legolas could hear the creak of the joists being pulled upright and away from his dye vat. He looked up as a scrape announced the return of Liomen.

Liomen sat down next to the elf with a half-smile but still spoke over-carefully, quietly and gently, “Only two more sets and the pressure will be off this one.” He nodded to the jumbled beams looming over both of them. “In the meantime, I have brought some lunch, my Lord. I wasn’t sure what elves eat so I just raided the pantry.”

He set a hamper down in the scant space by his feet, “I have some strawberries, biscuits and muffins from breakfast, and cheese. If none of those are good I can send one of the children to the market, please let me know. Oh, and I brought wine.” He set the wineskin down between them with a sloshing noise.

The thought trickled to Legolas that the Dyers Guild was probably frightened and embarrassed over his misadventure if he had picnic lunch and a master of the Guild as a minder. And frightened people don’t tell you about their gardens. Trying not to look intimidating Legolas propped himself on one arm and took a swig out of the wineskin. Hm, not bad. He tried to smile reassuringly and asked, “Can I please have the strawberries?”

***

Faramir strode rapidly through the castle with Marcos running to keep up behind him. Reaching an office empty of king, he turned to the group of scribes in the room across the hall and demanded, “Where is King Elessar?”

The scribe closest to the door blinked and responded, “He left a few minutes ago because there was an accident in the Archives.”

“Right, the Archives.” Faramir departed again, boy still in tow.

Halfway to the Archives, Faramir saw Aragorn and Gimli down the hall heading towards the gates at speed. He called ahead, “My King, I have news of an accident in the City.”

Aragorn came to a halt as Faramir and Marcos joined him. “What kind of accident?” he demanded.

***

A tidy little picnic lunch and half of the wineskin had served to make Legolas much happier. And as he brightened, Liomen relaxed a little and began telling him about the Dyers Guild and the gardens Legolas so admired. He chuckled when Legolas apologized for walking on the roof. “Normally our buildings are a little better maintained but we only got back from the evacuation last week and there has been a lot of damage to fix.”

“Can you tell me about the flowers?” Legolas was curious about such a healthy garden in a city full of slowly decaying buildings and abandoned gardens.

“Ah! The flowers!” Liomen sounded amused, “The root of this entire little adventure today?”

“All the flowers and bushes of this courtyard are rare dye plants raised by the Dyers Guild so we can dye fabric in bright colors. Indigo, such as this lovely vat, is a common plant, imported from the South in blocks. These flowers make all the deep reds, yellows and purples and other lovely colors found in expensive robes and gowns. As such, much of our time is taken with tending and harvesting them.” As he talked, the dyer waved his hands expressively, shaping blocks of indigo and fine fabrics in the air. He had a broad smile as he described watching the plants through the seasons and harvesting them in turn.

Legolas reflected that in the Dyers Guild he may have found the only real gardeners in the city and vowed to bring his kinsmen to visit the Dyers Guild when they come to plant and tend in the city. Every elf he knows would adore the flowers. He’ll have to bring Sam too; it would be a shame for the hobbit to miss out.

A few minutes into a discussion on types of manure used in the beds, Master Sarinth stepped through the beams over the vat and smiled down. “My Lord, we are down to the last beams.” Her expression grew a little sterner as she said, “Be ready to pull your leg clear and get out of the building as fast as possible. I don’t believe anything else will collapse but there is a risk the motion will cause something else to fall. I have no more patience for accidents today.”

Liomen quickly packed the remains of the meal into the hamper and set it out of the way, outside the vat. “I’ll help get him out.”

In the end, Legolas’s exit from the vat was surprisingly anticlimactic. As soon as he could feel the weight moving he managed to jerk the caught leg free. Liomen grabbed him by the shoulders and belt and with surprising strength heaved him over the edge of the vat onto solid ground. Legolas rolled up into a sitting position as the man vaulted out and dragged him out of the path of the moving debris.

From there, it was only a few steps before workers grabbed both man and elf, yanking them clear of the shifting debris and manhandling them out of the building.

***

Gimli, Aragorn and Faramir had followed Marcos through a series of narrow alleys, down a ladder, through several backyards in various states of repair and into the warehouses of the First Ring. Aragorn was somewhat pleased that the bodyguard had been left behind, unable to negotiate the first tree they had climbed. Maybe he could read those reports at the tops of City trees? He could get a little fresh air, it would be quieter and there would be fewer stupid helmets in view.

He’ll have to try pitching it as “becoming familiar with the entire city”.

By the time they arrive, the Dyers Guild had calmed down slightly and the various workers from other guilds had dispersed off to beer and a break. With the goal in sight, Gimli sprinted ahead, disappearing through the great wooden gates and into the courtyard.

They found Legolas stripped down to his leggings and sitting on a stool in the middle of a courtyard garden. His boots and arm guards were neatly stacked to one side and he was surrounded by buckets. He was chatting cheerfully about soil amendments with a man in dark blue as he scrubbed his long hair with a bar of soap. Based on the bluish puddles around his bare feet, it wasn’t the first attempt at removing the dye.

Gimli rushed forward and hugged his wet soapy elf, kissing him soundly and patting him down for damage. Legolas’s hair was now mottled in shades of blue matching the pattern of his usual braids. His skin was mottled blue such that Gimli wasn’t sure what was dye and what bruise. His fingernails were a truly alarming shade. Added to his tall, very lean build Legolas appeared to be in the last stages of some horrible wasting disease.

Having made sure his husband was safe, Gimli stepped back slightly and eyed the wreckage of the building while wiping at the stray soap on his beard. “One morning apart, buildings are destroyed and you are blue! What in Mahal’s balls have you been up to?”

Aragorn tapped one bucket with a foot and eyed the soapy contents: all the rest of Legolas’s clothing now interesting shades of blue. He grinned widely, he’s always wanted to be able to return this line, “You look terrible!”

Legolas gave Aragorn a bright smile before turning back to Gimli. “I wanted to see the garden! But the building was unstable. And apparently part of the shed landed on the bathhouse so I am bathing here with the flowers.” Legolas sounded way too cheerful for an elf who is now varying shades of blue and responsible for major property damage. He idly swept a handful of bluish bubbles out of this hair and blew them towards Gimli, covering his beard in soap suds again before taking a bucket of water and upending it over himself. The puddles got a little wider, Legolas remained blue.

“I’m not sure if this will come out or how to fix it.” Legolas stared at the end of a lock of hair with a smile. Aragorn would have thought any elf would be distraught to the point of sudden fading at the new hair coloration, but Legolas sounded more entertained.

The man sitting nearby cleared his throat, “Truthfully, the only thing you can do at this point is either wait for it to wear off in a few weeks or dip your hair again for a more even color.”

This was met with slightly astonished silence. The dyer shrugged, “It is a terribly uneven dye job.”

**Author's Note:**

> In Memory of MC, Master Dyer and expert gardener.


End file.
